Angel
by What the Fluff Project
Summary: Germany has a nightmare, and it just might be enough to get him to confess his love for Italy. Slightly angsty but very fluffy at the end.


**Title: Angel  
>Author: Ofelia (unshakespearean) with help from Emma (emmabirdy)<br>Fandom: Hetalia - Axis Powers  
>Characters: [Italy, Germany]<br>Rating: T  
>Warnings: Kissing?<strong>

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><p>Germany sat up straight in bed, his heart racing about as fast as America's mouth when spouting out idiocy. Images of Italy dying in a thousand ways flooded his mind. He just couldn't shake them. The nightmare wouldn't stop coming; every time he closed his eyes he could hear that high-pitched scream of pain, smell blood and see the light leave his only friend's bright eyes. It was never an arbitrary scream of pain, either. No, it was always a cry of <em>Germany, help me! <em>Sometimes there was a _please_ thrown in there, always drenched in tears.

"Germany?" He turned to see Italy looking up at him with curiosity. "What's wrong?"

It was enough to topple his resolve. He threw his arms around Italy and hugged him tightly, sobbing into his hair. He knew he looked like an idiot but he didn't care; all he knew was that Italy, _his_ Italy, was safe in his arms and that was all that mattered.

"You died," he choked out.

"It was just a nightmare," Italy said gently. It might have been the only time in recorded history that Italy was being more reasonable than Germany.

"I thought I'd lost you… Is this what it's like, when you have those nightmares?"

"What's it like?" Italy pulled away just a bit.

"It's… it's like everything in the world that ever mattered is gone, and all that's left is me, and this big empty white space."

"That's what it's like for me, too," Italy nodded. _And to think I pushed him away when he was in pain like that!_

_Pain… over losing me?_

"Italy," Germany said softly. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay." Germany looked down to see that Italy's eyes were truly caring and forgiving. "You're still my best friend." In that one moment, all of Germany's anger and annoyance towards Italy faded into nothing, and it felt incredible.

And then he asked something that broke Germany's heart.

"Am I still yours?"

_This is what he has nightmares about_, Germany realized, _about a day where I up and leave him forever._

"Always," Germany whispered, pulling Italy closer, locking his arms tightly around him, as though his… angel? That was a good way of putting it… would vanish if he let go for even a moment. Not that he ever wanted to let go. He lifted Italy into his lap and began rocking him back and forth, pushing aside the pain of his nightmare in favor of making sure Italy knew that he lo-would never leave him.

_Love._ The word rang in his head, over and over. Was this what he felt for the innocent, precious little nation snuggled in his lap? Was it love? He had been turning this possibility over in his mind for quite some time now. He had asked some of the other countries about it, and all of their responses were the same, albeit each given in a different annoying manner.

"Germany? Germany?" He looked down to see aforementioned precious little nation. "What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about you," Germany admitted.

"A-about me? What about me? Are you mad at me?" Tears began filling his bright brown eyes as he feared for the worst.

"No! No, not at all! I'm not mad, I promise. Shhhhh…" But it was too late. Italy was already sobbing, shaking in terror.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed, pushing away from Germany, wanting to run and hide. But Germany held fast, pulling Italy's head against his chest. A strong, steady heartbeat filled Italy's ears, and with that and Germany's arms wrapped gently but firmly around him, and his voice coming from somewhere just above Italy's head, soft and quiet and clearly not mad, he felt himself able to relax.

"Shhhhh," Germany soothed, rocking him back and forth again. "I'm not mad at you at all."

"Then-then what were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about how much you mean to me, Italy," Germany explained, playing with that one cute little curl that refused to lie flat. "I think-I think…"

"Think what?"

"I think I might be in love with you." Nervousness bubbled inside him as he made the confession, knowing that this could be the makings of a heartbreaking rejection.

"You… you love me?" A hint of a little tiny smile crossed Italy's face.

Just seeing that hint of a smile was enough to convince Germany that he was right. "Yes, Italy, I love you." And, without even thinking about it, he pressed their lips together. It was soft and gentle at first, but then Italy began to kiss back. As a matter of fact, both were very good kissers, and it soon became passionate, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they pressed closer and closer together until it felt as though they were the same person.

Italy's eyes were wide and bright as he pulled away and looked up at Germany, now gently stroking his cheek. "Germany…" he whispered breathlessly.

"_Ich liebe dich_…" Germany kissed Italy's forehead with the lightest of touches.

"Whaaaat?"

Germany chuckled softly. "It's German for 'I love you.' _Ich liebe dich_."

"Ohhhhhh…" A smile lit up the little Italian's face and he threw his arms around Germany's waist. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice slightly muffled as his face was buried in Germany's chest. "_Ti amo_."

"_Ti amo_," Germany tried, the language strange on his tongue.

"Silly Germany," Italy laughed. "You're saying it wrong!"

"I'll leave the Italian to you, then," Germany decided. "But now I think it's time we got some sleep." He gently lifted Italy off of his lap and laid him down in the bed.

"What if you have another nightmare?" Italy asked.

"I don't think I will, _meine liebe_," Germany replied as he laid down and pulled Italy into his arms. "I have you." He began to gently stroke Italy's hair, enjoying its silklike quality underneath his fingers and the soft content giggles and sighs his caresses were invoking in his… boyfriend? partner? lover?

Angel.

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><p><strong>Hey guys! Another GerIta fluff!<strong>

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